Baby, it's Cold Outside

It's been cold the last few days. Not just here, but all across the country. We're not as bad as bad as some places. Tempetiture has been in the teens with single digit wind chill factors. Right now it is a comparable balmy 27 degrees outside. The first day of winter asserted itself this year, sort saying, "Global Warming? Hey God's in control of the weather, not Al Gore!"

Growing up it seemed to get this cold a lot. We used to have some snow in November and often by December there would be a white cover ground that would stay that way until sometime in March. It was on one of those days back then I wrote this parody.

WITHER WONDERLAND

 1959 (age 17)

Wind is blowin’,

Hear it hissing.

In the land,

Snow is glistening.

Oh, what a plight,

I’ll be blue tonight

From walking in a winter wonderland.

Broken down in the blue car***.

Here to stay is a new scar.

My feet are gray,

Near froze away.

From walking in a winter wonderland.

In the meadow,

You may find a snowman.

Brush it off,

It could be me.

With this snow so heavy

I can’t hardly see.

Later on, I’ll expire –

Fall into the briar.

I’ll lie there in pain.

My body will be maimed

From walking in a winter wonderland.

***I had a Royal Blue 1954 Ford at the time.

From:   Poetry Reading

Twenty-Six Poems

OJR

Agnes Manser, Sponcer

Pottstown, Pa.

1959

In the Collection, "Early in the Mourning"  (Poems 1954-1959)  Yes, that is my wife on the cover again. 

It's Christmas Next Week

Since tomorrow is the first day of Christmas week, it seemed a good time to just post this old poem I wrote in 1957 at age 16.  It was written that Christmas season during a snow. I then incorporated it as one of the songs in a play I wrote two years later called, "Ya-Ha-Whoey!"

That is my wife I used on the cover photo.

 It’s snowing in the country,

Coming down in white flakes.

Piling up by the kitchen door,

While Christmas cookies bake.

We don’t care if

The drifts get real deep.

Christmas is coming next week.

It’s fine for sledding

And throwing snowballs.

The kids are having fun

Just watching the snow fall.

White snowmen with silk hats

Upon their head.

With songs of Santa

And his suit of bright red.

Toys are thought of.

Lists are being made.

Children are extra good,

Much more behaved.

Manners better

And spirit hard to beat,

For they know

It’s Christmas only next week.

It’s snowing in the country,

Coming down in white flakes,

Piling on the highway

And there’s ice upon the lakes,

We don’t know when

It’ll end. Gee, it’s deep.

Christmas is coming next week.

The adults are shopping.

Worries are leaving.

The rich are giving.

The poor are receiving.

While carolers are singing

Songs of our Savior

Or peace on earth

And love of neighbor.

The mothers are baking.

The fathers are joking.

The children are playing.

The chimney is smoking.

Trains are set up.

Trees are trimmed bright

And towns are lit up

With rows of Christmas light.

Walks are shoveled

And cards are sent out.

Children telling Santa

What they want while on his lap.

The children are restless,

At night they can’t sleep

For they know

It’s Christmas only next week.

It’s snowing in the country,

Coming down in white flakes.

We will get out our sleds

And put on our old ice skates,

Then we will slide

And ride home to sleep

And Christmas is coming next week.

RiverCreek Mystery

I have inhabited its banks for sixty years.
Photographed its waters while balanced upon its rocks.

You can read the complete poem on the Urban Undulations Blog Posts.  Here you can enjoy some of those photographs taken while balanced on rocks and shore.





Sometimes a creek and sometimes a river,

Who are we?








Music in the slide slow is "River Song" performed by Tom Rush, copyright 1999 Sony Music Entertainment, Inc.


All photos by Nitewrit and copyrighted 2008



"RiverCreek Mystery" was written and copyrighted 2001 by Nitewrit.



It was first published in Mobius: The Poetry Magazine in 2001

EARLY IN THE MOURNING: Poetry by Larry Eugene Meredith

Poems of Youth  1954 - 1959

PART I -- A POETRY READING

A POETRY READING

Rich Man$ $ixteen Ton$ (A parody)

RI¢H MAN$ $IXTEEN TON$

 

Some people say a man is made out of mud.

A rich man is made out of money he loves;

Money he loves and dollars and cents --

A wallet that’s thick and a safe that’s strong.

 

He loads sixteen tons of cash every day.

Sixteen tons and that ain’t hay.

Saint Peter don’t you call him,

‘Cause you all know.

You can’t take it with you,

            So he won’t go!

 

He was born one morning when the sun shone bright,

And ev’rything he tries just seems to go right.

His pa was rich, owned many a sou.

So you knew the boy would be loaded too.

 

He loads sixteen tons of cash every day.

Sixteen tons and that ain’t hay.

Saint Peter don’t you call him,

‘Cause you all know.

You can’t take it with you,

            So he won’t go!

 

Born on a morning when the sun did shine.

Picked up his wallet and walked to the mine.

Bought sixteen tons of fourteen caret gold:

He was a millionaire when ten years old.

 

He loads sixteen tons of cash every day.

Sixteen tons and that ain’t hay.

Saint Peter don’t you call him,

‘Cause you all know.

You can’t take it with you,

            So he won’t go!

 

If you see him coming, don’t beg for a dime,

Because you would be just wasting your time.

His heart is a cold, coal, coal black

And the voice of conscience his one big lank.

 

He loads sixteen tons of cash every day.

Sixteen tons and that ain’t hay.

Saint Peter don’t you call him,

‘Cause you all know.

You can’t take it with you,

            So he won’t go!

Willie Ameere's Drive

WILLIE AMEERE’S DRIVE

 

Hey, my friends, come over and hear

‘Bout the reckless drive of Willie Ameere.

It happened back in the year of ‘fifty-seven,

Late on a hot July night, nearing eleven.

Do you recall what happened that year?

 

He warned his gang, “If the police come

Here lookin’ for me sometime tonight.

Swallow your tongue and play-act dumb,

And try to confuse them until daylight.

Send one here, and another send there.

Tell them anything the traffic will bear.

Meanwhile, I’m fleeing in fear and rage

Through every countryside village

Trying to escape from the law’s long arm.”

 

On through the night drove Willie Ameere,

Tearing the night apart in fear and rage,

On through every countryside village

Yelling a cry of defiance edged in fear.

Noise in the darkness. Accelerator to the floor,

And a rumbling muffler that’ll echo evermore,

Then bore on that night’s wind of the past,

Through darkened streets to death at last,

He drove to sound and smoke and fire.

 

The people still waken and listen to hear

The hurried wheels of that harried car

And the death choked cry of Willie Ameere.

I Beg-g-g of You-u-u

I BEG-G-G OF YOU-U-U

 

I don’t want my head to be broken,

It’s the only one I got.

Darlin’, please be careful,

I know you’ve beared a lot.

Please, don’t break my head,

                        I beg of you!

 

I don’t want my blood a-drippin’.

You know I’d hate to die,

And that’s what bound to happen

If your temper gets too high.

Darlin’, please don’t get so high,

                        I beg of you!

 

Hold my hand and promise,

You won’t make it black and blue,

Even if I know you hate me,

Hate me through and through.

 

Little girl, you got me miserable,

Must you shoot me too?

Please don’t take advantage

Of my bruises blue.

Darlin’, please, please don’t do,

                        I beg-g-g of you-u-u!

HOT ROD RICHARD

(To Richard A. Wilson)

Hot Rod Richard came a-roaring around the bend

In a souped-up streeter with a sleeked-down rear end.

Into the straightaway and around a curve again.

            He sure does move that mess of tin.

Hot Rod Richard in his car decked and stripped-down,

Going along the road really covering ground.

Fastest wheel-riding cat in all rural Pottstown,

            Riding with a loud glass pipe sound.

He is the hot rodder the coolest girls all chase,

For this cat wins in every dragging flat race.

As the hot rodding king, Richard is no disgrace;

            He holds the hand with every ace.

A Teenage Girl at a Big Star Record Hop in 1957

A TEENAGE GIRL AT A BIG STAR RECORD HOP IN 1957

 

Listen to the guitar.

Hear the drum beat.

            Elvis is real cool,

                        Mineo is neat!

                                    April Love croonin’

                                                Be-Bop Baby spins.

                                                            Ricky Nelson is there

                                                                        Singin’ like he don’t care.

                                                                                    Really dishin’ them out,

                                                                                                From Treat Me Nice

                                                                                                And Go, Cat Go on to

                                                                                    Alcoholic mice.

                                                                        Let’s swing to the beat.

                                                            Last record repeat.

                                    Ev’rybody’s here

Makin’ with the big cheer.

Listen to the drumbeat.

            Hear the guitar.

Everlys are really cool,

Fats is far out.

Frankenstein

FRANKENSTEIN

They said I was mad. But I’ll show them

Who’s mad. I’ll build a monster that will

Destroy the world.  I’m not mad!

So, I built me a body and I installed a brain.

Then I waited for thunder, lightning and rain.

I put it on a stand and when the lightning came;

It’s Alive, Felix, it is alive! Who’s insane?

Felix didn’t like him. He beat him with a cane.

Then one day, when Felix did it just the same,

The mad monster hung him by a long heavy chain

And left him dangle there in the pouring rain.

They use to come to me and say, “Baron Frankenstein,

Pay your bills, they’ve been due a long, long time,

But they met my monster with his skin sweating slime

And they haven’t bothered me anymore about my crime.

            Eeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhoooooooooooeeeeeeee!

What was that shrill, horrid scream? Let me go see.

They’ve killed my deathless monster and hung him in a tree!

But who could have done it, who could have defeated me?

Why, it’s the U. S. Army and General Elvis Presley!

Stranger

STRANGER

They whispered there’s a stranger

And he’s riding toward town.

They wondered where’d he come from

And why’s he coming ‘round?

Was he a criminal

Wanted by the law?

What was his name?

Was he fast on the draw?

Would he run if

Someone called his bluff?

Or wouldn’t poker-faced words

Be sufficient enough?

Where had he come from?

What would he do?

Everybody wondered –

No body knew.

He rode a large horse,

Both palely white.

They stood out clearly

Riding at night.

Could he be bested?

How was his hook?

Everybody watched him.

Everybody shook.

He settled himself into

The Long Horned Cattle Hotel

And for a goodly moment

Ev’rything went pretty well,

But one chill autumn day

Ed Black came along

And said by sundown

The stranger had best be gone.

He didn’t run,

So they squared off in the street,

And right after the battle

They buried Ed Black deep.

The stranger rode away

Without a scratch,

And we knew who he was:

One no one could match.

On Main Street

ON MAIN STREET

 

I picked her up on Main Street,

Because I had run over her feet.

BUT INSTEAD OF JAZZ…

 

Just the other day or so, I went wrong.

Tuned the radio to hear a jazz song.

            But all I got, beside the news, was a nursery sing.

            Instead of jazz, I got a nursery sing.

Yes, Instead of jazz, I heard this tune

Prancing through my living room.

            Mary had a little lamb,

            Little lamb, little lamb…

 

Damn!

 

I thought I would be smart and change the dial,

And so I did, but in a little while:

            Yes, all I got, beside the news, was a nursery sing.

            Instead of jazz, I got a nursery sing.

Jinglely verses were all they would play.

Come on, man, just go away!

            A tisket, a tasket.

            A green and yellow basket…

 

Blast it!

 

The rest of the day those records did spin,

Until my aching brain began to swim,

            For all I got, beside the news, was a nursery sing.

            Instead of jazz, I got a nursery sing,

Though I got the Farmer in the Dell,

I didn’t feel very well.

            Farmer in the Dell,

            Farmer in the dell…

 

Hell!

 

Then I got mad at a bridge falling down.

I threw the radio right to the ground,

            But all I got, beside the news, was a nursery sing.

            Instead of jazz, I got a nursery sing.

It did not smash and it did not break.

It was more than I could take!

            London Bridge is falling down,

            Falling down, falling down…

 

My fair lady!

Paul Anka

PAUL ANKA

 

 

All we teenagers wanna thanka

You, songwriter Paul Anka,

For writing songs that sound dumb

With stupid tunes that we can hum.

And you make the young girls all sigh

When you warble: “Yi yi yi”.

 

Sure all the adults blanch and gag

Every time you start to brag

You got a girl you really love,

Who comes from Heaven up above.

 

As for me, I think you would be great

Outside these United States.

Maybe Canada is a little sick,

If that’s where you learned music.

I don’t want to hear you holler

About a leg on your shoulder.

Pennsylvania

PENNSYLVANIA

 

I’d like to go back to the home I adore in Pennsylvania.

I’d like to go back and to roam no more from Pennsylvania.

 

I just would like to see once more

The rolling hills covered with snow

In mid-December when the winter winds

Begin to blow in Pennsylvania,

And bright little streams and creeks

Where ice forms over the waterfall.

I hear the water’s rush and the wind’s hush

Give out a winter call in Pennsylvania.

 

In Pennsylvania, where the fog rolls in,

Where the sales taxes grow.

Fall may see the leaves drop.

Winter sees the falling snow,

Then spring follows springing

And summer sneaks in knowin’

That the sales tax keeps growin’

In Pennsylvania.

            My home!

Walking, Talking Sack Dress

WALKING, TALKING SACK DRESS

To Peggy

 

I was walking one night a year ago,

Walking down a shady lane

            Through the snow.

When I heard something in the brush ahead.

The rustling it made almost scared me dead.

I went closer to it,

Trying to see.

When something jumped out

And headed for me.

 

It was the worse sight and you know the rest.

It was a walking, talking sack dress!

 

            Oh, is it a monster?

            Or is it a disease?

            It was a walking,

            Talking chemise!

Random Ideas Concerning Certain Pages in my Grammar

RANDOM IDEAS CONCERNING CERTAIN PAGES IN MY GRAMMAR

 

 

 

He dived as quick as a flash

            And made a big splash

            And went to the bottom.

 

We threw a warning glance

            For he did not advance

            To the top from the bottom.

 

Please

PLEASE

 

 

There’s only one thing I wanted out of life”

A little woman to be my loving wife

And a few good children playing around me.

I guess I’ll never see an answer to my dream.

No matter how simple it might seem

I can’t find any decent love songs.

 

While I was sitting on the couch with my love,

Watching Cupid shoot his arrows from above,

I turned the radio on for some mood music.

 

            And now I’m mad at the radio.

            What am I gonna do?

            All I get outta you is:

            ‘Ou ee, ou ahh ahh, ting tang…

            Shut up and keep swimming…’

                        But no singing.

 

I make a plea to those who write songs.

Can’t you please stop doing lovers wrong?

Please write us a beautiful ballad.

I don’t think I can stand much more.

My baby and me are getting sore

From this tasteless musical salad.

 

            Yakety yak!

            Splish splash!

            I am becoming a monster, I’m

            Just like the teenage caveman.